


Death and the Maiden

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [21]
Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinosaurs are not teh only thing to come through the anomalies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The anomaly sparkled in the warm haze of late morning sun filtering down through a canopy of branches. Three soldiers were on duty, keeping the flickering light in view, covering it at all times with their rifles.

It was beautiful, Claudia would give it that much, but it still managed to send a shiver down her spine every time she came here. She wished she knew what it was about the Forest of Dean that seemed to attract these things like fleas to a fox. As far as they could tell, this one led to the Permian again, although Lester had resolutely refused to sanction anything more than a very short excursion to the past. It had appeared late the previous night and had been reported by one of the local policemen who walked this route with his dog every day.

So far, they’d been lucky. There were no signs of life on the other side, just a wilderness of rock and wizened trees. She shivered again.

Something warm settled round her shoulders and she found herself staring into a pair of concerned blue eyes.

“You look cold,” said Nick, by way of explanation for the jacket he’d just draped around her.

Claudia pulled the coat closer, ignoring the slight tremor in her own hands, and made an effort to smile.

His answering smile was teasing. “Come on, a brisk walk back to the hotel will warm you up, Miss Brown.” He held out his hand and looked at her expectantly.

Ignoring the speculative looks on the faces of the soldiers, Claudia grasped his fingers firmly in hers and together they made their way back along the track.

They walked in companionable silence. Claudia’s feeling of foreboding started to subside, although she remained lost in her own world, so much so that she contrived to miss whatever statement Nick had made immediately before he’d stopped abruptly in the shade of an oak tree, and enveloped her in his arms.

“I said, ‘Would you object if I kissed you, Claudia Brown?’” he repeated, with a smile.

“Even though one of Captain Ryan’s men is no doubt lurking in a bush somewhere, making sure we get back safely?” she teased, conscious of the fact that she was playing for time, in the hope getting her heartbeat back under control.

“I’m sure the whole squad have been hand-picked for discretion,” murmured Nick, slipping one hand under her chin and tilting her head back.

Claudia laughed. “I very much doubt it. I’ve heard them gossiping. They’re worse than a bunch of schoolkids.”

His arms slipped around her under the jacket and she closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss, feeling rather embarrassingly like a teenager again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Nick said quietly, moments before his lips closed over hers.

The kiss tasted pleasantly of the mint he’d been sucking as they’d left the hotel. His lips were thorough, yet never demanded more than she was prepared to give. He worked patiently at her mouth until she relaxed enough to allow his tongue to slip between her lips.

His hand slid up her back to stroke her hair, and the jacket dropped down with a rustle into the undergrowth. The kiss deepened and she felt the rasp of stubble on her face. Her own arms slid up his back, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin shirt. He smelled of soap, clean and surprisingly fresh after the sultry walk under the trees.

This kiss was nothing like the brief peck on the lips she’d pressed onto him in the hotel that first day. It was a kiss made more intense by a wealth of shared experience in a difficult and demanding job, where fear ran a race with exhilaration and occasionally collided messily. This wasn’t their first kiss, and Claudia very much hoped that it wouldn’t be their last either, but she knew full well that the spectre of Helen was still standing behind Nick Cutter’s shoulder, close enough to cast a shadow over their lives.

Helen, who always mysteriously appeared without warning, out of nowhere and disappeared equally mysteriously. Helen, who still taunted them all, both with her presence and with her absence. Helen, who quite obviously still held a piece of Nick Cutter’s heart, no matter how much he might deny it, even to himself. Helen, a woman whose motives Claudia had long since given up trying to guess. She had saved Claudia’s life once, seemingly to no benefit to herself, but in spite of that, Claudia still found it hard to feel any sense of obligation towards her. Helen was almost certainly the reason her own relationship with Nick had developed at a glacially slow pace. They’d kissed a few times, and gone out for the occasional drink, but it had never gone beyond that, and they’d never slept together, despite what the rest of the team seemed to believe.

“What are you thinking about?” Nick asked drawing back slightly, and raising his eyebrows in enquiry.

Claudia decided the answer your wife would almost certainly put a damper on the proceedings, so she smiled and provided the age-old lie, “Nothing important.”

“Lester works you too hard,” Nick commented, planting a kiss on the end of her nose. “You look tired and stressed.”

“Something about this forest gives me the creeps,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I can blame Lester for that.”

Nick grinned. “With a little effort I find I can blame him for most things.”

He linked his arms loosely around her waist then proceeded to kiss her again with admirable thoroughness. She relaxed against him, this time without giving any thought to his wife.

Without warning, a blur of movement to one side made her cry out in alarm. Nick grunted and suddenly lurched against her, propelled forward by some unknown force. She yelped in surprise, trying – and failing – to hold him upright as she staggered and almost fell. A hand snaked around her throat, yanking her backwards and choking off her scream. The smell of rank, unwashed human flesh assailed her nostrils and she gagged.

Her attacker grunted something unintelligible and she felt hands scrabbling at her blouse, ripping the fabric and clawing roughly at her breasts.

Claudia recovered her composure enough to jab her elbow backwards and stamp down with her foot, trying to rake the thin skin on the front of the person’s shin, the way she’d been taught in self-defence classes at university. She was rewarded by another grunt, followed by angry words in a language she didn’t recognise. A blow to the side of her head knocked Claudia to the ground and a foot slammed into her stomach.

She curled up into a defensive ball and tried to roll with the next kick, the way she’d been shown. Her attacker spat something at her that she still didn’t understand but she didn’t need to follow the words to know she was being mocked. Fearfully, Claudia opened her eyes and looked up.

A man stared down at her, grinning and leering. Shock hit her like an ice-cold shower. He looked like he’d spent the last goodness knows how long living rough in the forest. Filthy brown hair straggled down past his shoulders and he had an unkempt and equally dirty beard. His clothes were little better than rags and more rags were bound around his feet.

He laughed again, and shoved at Nick with his foot, rolling him over onto his back. Nick’s head lolled to one side, and he was clearly unconscious. A long knife was gripped tightly in their assailant’s grimy right hand and in his other hand the man held a wooden club. He swung it down hard and it impacted with a sickening thud against Nick’s upper arm, but the professor’s face remained slack and unresponsive.

The man laughed and turned his attention back to Claudia. A lascivious leer made his intentions all too plain.

Claudia cowered down on the forest floor, her eyes desperately seeking any opening that she could use to her advantage.

The man reached down and grabbed the front of her blouse. A hard yank was all it took to scatter the remaining buttons and rip the material, exposing the cream lace of her bra. A sick certainty settled in Claudia’s stomach. She was going to be raped.

She drew her feet up, pressing down with her heels, trying to move backwards away from her attacker, all the while clawing with her fingers at the soft earth. The man dropped to the ground next to her and reached out to grab her knees, yanking them roughly apart. Claudia threw a handful of earth and leaves into his face but all he did was shake his head like a dog and clutch at her again. Moments later, in spite of her struggles, Claudia found herself with one leg securely pinned down under her attacker’s knee, her bra sliced apart by the knife, exposing her breasts. He made an appreciative-sounding noise and Claudia felt a hot flush rising up her cheeks.

Her attacker extended his knife, clearly intending to cut away her trousers. She heard another voice calling something she didn’t understand and heard the sound of running feet. With a sick certainly, Claudia knew someone else was coming to join the party.

With a final, desperate heave, she twisted sideways, trying to upset the man’s balance and, at the same time, threw another handful of soil and small stones into his face. He shook his head and angry words exploded from a mouth filled with broken and rotted teeth. He cuffed Claudia hard on her cheek, snapping her head sideways.

A sudden burst of gunshots sounded close at hand and a voice shouted, “Leave her alone and stand back!”

Her attacker swivelled around, but made no move away from her. A moment later, the man let out a surprised yell, eyes suddenly wide with shock, a black knife hilt protruding from his upper arm.

Claudia rolled onto her side, pulling the ruins of her blouse around her breasts. The knife had fallen from her would-be rapist’s hand, and she grabbed it instinctively and started to struggle to her feet.

She saw two more men staring down at her, no more than ten paces away, dressed in rough, home-spun tunics over baggy trousers the colour of moss. For a dazed moment she wondered if they had walked into some sort of historical re-enactment. She turned her head in the direction that the knife had been thrown from and was inestimably relieved to see one of Ryan’s men, rifle raised.

“Just get up and move slowly towards me, ma’am,” said the black-clad soldier calmly. “I’ve got you covered.”

Green eyes glittered in a tanned face.

The soldier known as Blade had his rifle raised to his shoulder and was advancing on Claudia’s attacker.

Claudia’s reactions were heightened by the adrenaline rush from the attack. The cavalry had arrived, and from what she knew of her rescuer, a ragged tramp armed with only a club and a knife wasn’t enough to cause Blade to break into a sweat.

A dull thump broke the silence of the forest air, followed by a surprised gasp. The soldier’s thigh had suddenly sprouted a grey-fletched arrow. Claudia’s eyes widened with shock. A voice yelled something in the same unintelligible language. A second arrow hit the ground at Claudia’s feet sending up a small spray of dirt and leaves. A third one buried itself only inches from Nick Cutter’s still form. A fourth arrow took Blade in his right arm, but the soldier retained his grip on the weapon.

Claudia watched the two other men staring around them, looking as surprised as the soldier.

“Assistance needed,” said Blade, speaking calmly into his throat mike. “We have four hostiles in Sector 7. I repeat four hostiles in Sector 7. The professor is down. Arwen is here, uninjured. I’ve taken two hits. Whoever they are, they’re using fucking bows and arrows! Make it quick, guys. Out.”

With his left hand, Blade snapped both arrow shafts, grunting with pain. He took a step forward, but his injured leg buckled and he went down on the other knee, swearing violently. He swung his rifle around, and shouted at the first man to stay back, then he fired a short burst on automatic into the ground between Claudia and the other two men sending up a spray of earth and leaves. The recoil jarred his arm and drew another curse.

The first of the three men backed away, staring at the black-uniformed soldier, less confident now, clearly disturbed by the noise of the assault rifle. He’d dragged the knife from his arm, and had his hand clamped over the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

Nick Cutter chose exactly that moment to start to regain consciousness. He groaned, and rolled over, shaking his head, trying to come up onto his knees.

Claudia stared around, trying to see where the arrows were coming from, but all she could see was trees. Still tenaciously gripping the knife she had taken from her attacker, she moved to Nick’s side, studiously ignoring the fact that her blouse and her bra hung in ruins around her naked breasts. She hoped Blade could manage to keep them covered, but her heart was still thudding uncomfortably in her chest.

Nick Cutter’s eyes were filled with confusion.

“We’re under attack,” she told him, succinctly. “One of them clubbed you. Another’s got a bow and Blade has been hit. We need to get away.”

With her arm around his shoulders, helping to support him, the two of them lurched for the shelter of an old oak tree. Blade followed suit. Two arrows hit the bark, narrowly missing their targets. The soldier returned fire. The staccato chatter of the rifle sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of the forest. The other two men were backing away, fear and confusion showing plainly on their faces.

“Claudia, are you all right?” Nick’s voice was low and urgent, more concerned with her than with his own injuries, even though his right arm still dangled uselessly at his side, numb from the blow he’d taken.

Trembling, she nodded, shrinking back against the tree, one hand still clutching her shirt together.

“Help’s on the way, ma’am,” said Blade. “Sorry about this. I wasn’t expecting the bad guys from Robin of sodding Sherwood.”

“What have we done to upset the locals?” whispered Claudia, trying – and failing – to keep a tremor out of her voice.

“Nothing,” said Blade. “I don’t know who these bastards are, but they’re not from around here. Not with accents like that.”

“Don’t be too sure,” said Nick, still looking dazed. “We don’t know how they got here. There could be a second anomaly.”

Claudia and Blade both stared at him in amazement, until the thwap of another arrow striking the tree trunk drew their attention.

Blade squeezed off a burst of shots, intent on keeping their attackers at bay, as he muttered into his microphone, “Now would be a good time for some back-up, lads. I’m pinned down right now.”

“No deaths!” hissed Nick, vehemently. “If I’m right, the chances of changing history are too great! Tell them, man!”

“The professor says non-lethal force only,” said Blade talking to his comrades over the radio. “I repeat, do not kill. Acknowledge, please?” A moment later, he nodded to Nick, signifying that the orders had been accepted.

Claudia clutched the ruins of her clothing, doing her best to cover her modesty, even though staying alive was a somewhat higher priority at that particular moment, but old habits died hard.

“Miss Brown, I need something to use as a bandage, please,” said Blade, his voice unnaturally calm for a man who had two arrows sticking out of his flesh.

Without a second thought, Claudia threw modesty to the four winds and slipped off her blouse. In a series of quick movements, she used the knife to cut off the sleeve, then to split it into four long strips.

“Tie it round my leg to stop the arrow point from moving, please.”

In the circumstances, his politeness was almost as surprising as his air of calm. Claudia followed his instructions, mentally thanking Lester for insisting that every member of the team attended regular first-aid courses. She knew how to wrap the improvised bandage around Blade’s leg in such a way as to minimise the movement of the arrow in his flesh. The only reaction to greet her efforts was a very small intake of breath as she secured the strip of cloth in place with a knot.

Blade held his rifle one-handed while she dealt with the arrow in his arms the same way.

“Thanks, miss,” he said, quietly, ignoring the whine of another arrow passing close to their hiding place. In response to a question relayed over his radio, the soldier replied, “Yeah, fucking peachy, mate. In your own time, Finn ….”

“Claudia,” Nick’s voice was quiet, and she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Take this.” He was holding his own shirt out to her. With a grateful smile, she slipped it on and fumbled with the buttons.

A burst of gunshots sounded to their left, followed immediately by a single shot from another location.

“The lads are trying to get the guy with the bow to reveal his position, Professor,” commented Blade, forestalling any argument from Nick.

They remained crouched behind the tree, Blade positioned so he could lay down covering fire if needed, and Nick doing his best to shield Claudia with his body. She was grateful for his chivalry. Reaction was starting to set in now, and she was trembling.

“Won’t be long now, Miss Brown,” Blade said, reassuringly. “Finn and Kermit have got the bowman pinned down and they’ve already taken the other two out of action.”

In fact it took somewhat longer than Blade had predicted, no doubt due to Nick’s insistence on non-lethal force, but eventually a shout from Finn signified the end of a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse. Claudia leaned against the tree, allowing the knife to fall from her hand. She’d gone beyond trembling into shaking, and had a nasty feeling she was about to burst into tears.

At her side, Blade slid, slowly and carefully, down the gnarled trunk of the oak tree, a faint sheen of sweat standing out on his tanned face.

Claudia took a deep breath and answered Nick’s look of concern with a wan attempt at a smile. “I’m all right.” It wasn’t true, but she had no intention of falling apart now, not while there was still work to be done.

Ignoring the tremor in her fingers, she pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket. They had a problem on their hands, and Lester needed to know about it.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of a helicopter setting down in the grounds of the Mitchells’ hotel, the team’s base of operations in the Forest of Dean, was loud enough to make itself heard even over the noise of the water in the shower cubicle. It almost certainly heralded the arrival of Lester and more soldiers to reinforce those already combing the Forest of Dean for yet another anomaly.

An anomaly that appeared to lead to a much more recent period of time, one that had already disgorged four people from the past into the present.

Claudia suppressed a shudder. She’d come close to being raped today. If it hadn’t have been for the intervention of one of Captain Ryan’s men, she had no illusions at all about what would have happened next. Her attacker’s intentions had been quite clear. She’d been trying not to think about it, but her imagination was not being very cooperative, and simply refused to allow itself to be shut down. A shower, hot enough to sting, had helped slightly, and she had correctly interpreted her feeling of extreme lethargy as being the product of adrenaline fatigue. She’d hung around with soldiers long enough to recognise the signs.

She shut off the flow of hot water, and briskly towelled herself dry. A hair dryer dealt with the worst of the moisture, then a change of clothes, followed by the application of a small amount of make-up, made her feel somewhat more human. She was now as ready as she ever would be to face the world.

A knock on the door of her room made her jump. Cursing her own reactions, she asked, “Who is it?”

“Mary.”

Claudia let out a pent-up breath and opened the door.

Mary Mitchell, one of the owners of the hotel, stood in the corridor holding a mug of steaming tea. “How are you feeling?” she asked, coming straight to the point in her usual way.

The other woman was no stranger to the kind of shocks that came with residence in the anomaly-prone Forest and Claudia knew her well enough to be comfortable letting her guard down with Mary.

“Jumpy,” she admitted, wrapping her hands around the mug and stepping back to allow Mary into the room.

“Hardly surprising, after what happened,” Mary said, quietly. “Nick’s got a bump on his head the size of an egg, but at least his arm is only bruised, not broken. Ditzy’s refusing to let him go careering around the woods with the search parties and Nick’s starting to sound even more Scottish than usual.”

Claudia smiled. “He won’t like being told what to do. How’s Blade?”

“Still at the hospital, along with the man with the knife wound and the one that Finn knocked out cold, but Ditzy says Blade will be fine. So will the other two, but I imagine you’re not too concerned about their health. We’ve got them held here in one of the barns.” She laid her hand lightly on Claudia’s arm. “Do you want Ditzy to take a look at you?”

“The man didn’t get that far, Mary. I’m fine, honestly, just a bit shaken up. Would you tell James I’ll be down in five minutes?”

Mary nodded, failing to disguise the concern in her dark eyes, but said nothing more.

True to her word, Claudia presented herself downstairs in exactly five minutes. She wasn’t surprised to find Lester already embroiled in what looked like a heated argument with Nick.

“Cutter, for the tenth time, no!” Lester was saying with obvious exasperation as she entered the small living room the team used as an office. “There’s nothing you can do out there that Ryan’s men and Stephen can’t manage perfectly well without you. I suppose it was too much to hope for that a bang on the head might have knocked some sense into you.”

Nick opened his mouth to continue the argument then closed it abruptly when he saw Claudia in the doorway. His expression softened and he held a hand out towards her, tentatively. “Claudia.”

She smiled and gave the proffered hand a quick squeeze. “I’m fine, Nick. Thanks for the loan of your shirt.”

Lester heaved a theatrical sigh. “Talk some sense into the idiot, will you?”

“What makes you think he’ll listen to me?” she said. “I take it there’s no sign of another anomaly at the moment?”

Nick shook his head. “But it has to be there somewhere. They certainly didn’t come from the Permian.”

“It may already have closed,” Claudia commented. “They could have been living rough in the forest for weeks, Nick. It’s a big place.”

Lester winced. “So we could have even more refugees from the past on our hands? Bloody marvellous. Are you absolutely sure they aren’t Welsh?”

Claudia’s glare left her boss looking wholly unrepentant.

“I’ve just had some news from the hospital, sir,” said a voice from the doorway. “We’ve got a bigger problem than refugees from the past on our hands.”

Three heads swivelled at once to greet the arrival of the team’s medic, Second Lieutenant Dave ‘Ditzy’ Owen. The sharp smell of alcohol gel entered the room with him.

Lester raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Go on.”

“There’s a strong possibility that the men we sent to the hospital are infected with the plague.”

Claudia took a deep, shaky breath, numerous questions warring for precedence in her mind.

Before any of them had an opportunity to fill the sudden silence that had greeted the medic’s words, Ditzy held his hand up placatingly. “It’s not quite as bad as it sounds. Modern antibiotics are an effective treatment, but it’s essential we find out whether these men have had contact with anyone else. And we’d also better hope that no rats came through with them.”

“What about the men we have in custody here?” Lester asked, his expression guarded but somewhat more strained than usual.

Ditzy shrugged. “I haven’t examined them yet, but there’s a good chance they’ll be infected as well. I was presuming the professor would want us to keep contact with them to a minimum, but they’re not going to be able to stay here, sir. We need to get all of them into an isolation unit.”

Nick nodded absently. Watching him floundering for once, as he clearly struggled to take in the implications of the soldier’s words, actually helped to shake Claudia out of her own shock.

“Well, we all knew this might happen some day,” she said, briskly. “We have disease containment procedures that can be brought into force. Obviously our first priority is to return the men to their own time, but we also have to be aware of the possibility that other people may have had contact with them, as well. Lieutenant Owen, I shall need you to brief me on the symptoms of the disease. After that we need to ensure all local GPs and hospitals are on the lookout for any other suspected cases.”

“Without mentioning the words ‘black’ and ‘death’ in the same sentence, I hope?” said Lester, looking pained.

“I think you can rely on me to be a little more tactful than that, James,” Claudia said with a glacial smile.

“And how we are going to explain this one away?”

“I shall play the illegal immigrant card. That provides the perfect excuse for our involvement.”

“Plague is a notifiable disease, ma’am,” Ditzy said. “Dr Fielding at the hospital will already have had to follow the procedures and notify the Consultant in Communicable Disease Control. Fielding’s a good guy, but even he can’t cover this one up.”

“Then the sooner I talk to him, the better,” Claudia said, briskly.

“What about those who have had contact with the men, Owen? Are they at risk?” Irritation and concern were warring for precedence in Lester’s eyes, and it appeared that concern was currently taking the lead.

“Unfortunately one of the buggers we’re got locked up here has been coughing fit to bust, so we can’t rule out the possibility of airborne infection. There’s also the matter of fleas.”

“Today just gets better and better,” Lester commented. “This is the 21st century, Owen. Isn’t there a vaccine, or something? The press will have a bloody field day if they get wind of this one.”

Ditzy shook his head. “There’s no vaccine, sir, but we can give preventive antibiotic treatment.”

“We can’t go around stuffing people from the past full of modern antibiotics!” exclaimed Nick.

“We send animals back stuffed full of modern tranquillisers, Professor,” Ditzy countered uncompromisingly.

Nick opened his mouth to protest, but Claudia jumped in before the argument could escalate. “They’re human beings, Nick,” she said firmly. “We have to treat them appropriately. I’m going to the hospital to talk to Dr Fielding. Lieutenant, will you come with me?”

“What about other two men?” Lester demanded.

“They’re in the secure animal holding pens in Jim’s barn, sir,” said Ditzy. “I’ve placed guards, with orders to keep their distance. The men have been given food and drink. It’s the best we can do for now.”

The idea of human beings locked up in pens designed to hold animals stranded out of their own time gave Claudia some qualms, in spite of her feelings towards her attackers, but it was very definitely a case of needs must. If they were lucky, Stephen and Ryan would locate the relevant anomaly quickly and the men could be returned to their own time. If not – well, that would pose a set of problems that Claudia really didn’t want to consider right now.

The drive to Dilke Memorial Hospital was accomplished mainly in silence. As Ditzy drove, Claudia did her best to suppress her own fears. She’d become no stranger to this hospital in the time the team had spent in the Forest of Dean. The facility was old, and nearing the end of its useful life, but the staff were cheerful, competent and, above all, discreet. Like so many of the inhabitants of areas that appeared to have beset by anomalies for quite some considerable period, they had no wish to bring curious thrill-seekers and the world’s media down around their ears and they had become very good at not questioning too deeply what went on around them. They accepted the presence of the soldiers and the scientists with an equanimity that never failed to impress Claudia.

Dr Simon Fielding was no exception when it came to calm acceptance of a variety of different problems, but it was obvious from the look in his troubled blue eyes that plague wasn’t exactly an every day occurrence, even in the Forest of Dean.

“Niall’s fine,” the young doctor began, answering Ditzy’s unspoken question. “I had to cut both points out. The bastard things were barbed. He needs to keep the weight off that leg until the stitches are out, but there’s no permanent damage, just another couple of scars to add to his collection. You can take him back with you to the hotel.”

Ditzy nodded his thanks and Claudia smiled with relief. “What about the other men?” she asked coming straight to the point. “Do you have a confirmed diagnosis?”

Dr Fielding shook his head. “I’ve sent some samples off to the lab. We probably won’t have the results back until tomorrow.”

“And until then?”

“Until then we proceed on the basis that they have plague. I have a responsibility to notify the Health Protection Unit on the basis of clinical suspicion, Claudia, not confirmation of diagnosis. I’m sorry, but that’s not a procedure I can ignore, not even for the Home Office.”

“Do you really think they have the plague?” she asked, conscious of the fact that she was clutching at straws.

Fielding nodded. “One of them has a raised temperature, a number of suppurating ulcers on his body, diarrhoea and, which is something of a clincher, enlarged lymph nodes in his armpit and groin. The symptoms are less pronounced in the other, but I still think he has the disease.”

“The one who attached me wasn’t acting very sick,” she riposted, unable to stop herself grimacing at the memories of the man pawing at her body.

“He’s still in the early stages of the disease,” said the doctor. “It can take two to three days from this point, without treatment, to become fatal. I worked in Kenya for a while. There was a plague outbreak there so it isn’t the first time I’ve seen these symptoms.” Fielding held Claudia’s gaze for a long moment, then asked, his voice studiously neutral. “I need to know where they’ve come from, Claudia. Questions are going to be asked.”

“They’re illegal immigrants, Simon. We’ve been on the track of a gang bringing people into the country for a while. These two and a group of other men got away before we raided the place where they were being held. We’ve rounded up two more of them, but we believe more may be loose in the Forest. We have men combing the area now.”

Fielding nodded slowly, knowing he was being fed a lie, but not challenging her. “So where have these men been brought in from?”

“Where do you think is most likely?” she asked, her eyes pleading ‘help me out here’.

Simon Fielding sighed. “Algeria. They had an outbreak there a couple of years ago.”

Claudia raised her eyebrows. “Do they look or sound Algerian?”

“No, but I don’t plan to let anybody get that well acquainted with them. We’ll need to have the other two in here as well; you do know that, don’t you?”

Claudia hesitated and glanced at Ditzy for help.

“We need to keep them under guard, Simon, and we have to be ready to move them out quickly,” said the medic.

Fielding looked uneasy. “I should ship them all over to Cheltenham General. St Luke’s has got full isolation facilities, we haven’t. I can’t keep four patients in isolation here, Claudia. The Health Protection guys will have my nuts if I try.”

“Buy time for me, Simon,” she pleaded. “Don’t mention the other two, please. Treat them over at the hotel. You can keep two men here with you until you get a confirmation of the diagnosis, can’t you? Forget I mentioned the others.”

“Claudia, you’re out of your mind. You can’t keep suspected plague cases at Jim Mitchell’s hotel!”

“And I can’t let you ship them over to Cheltenham. I need them ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“So you haven’t found it yet?” Fielding said heavily. “What if you don’t?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Claudia said, sincerely hoping she wouldn’t have to. “Can I rely on your discretion?”

The doctor sighed and gave a helpless shrug. “I was born not two miles from here and brought up in the Forest. You know bloody well you can. But it’s getting worse around here and we all know it. You can’t keep the lid on this forever, Claudia. You know that as well I do.”

“We’ll just have to do our best,” she said, as brightly as she could manage. “Thanks, Simon.”

“I’ll add it to your slate,” said the dark-haired young doctor. “Just make sure you’ve got some convincing answers if we need them.”

Claudia nodded reassuringly. Convincing answers she could manage.

Or, at least, she hoped she could.


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of her Jack Russell terrier barking in the back garden drew Eileen Allen’s attention away from the pot of chicken soup simmering on her cooking range. The dog was making enough noise to wake the dead, but the postman had already been and she wasn’t expecting any visitors.

“Patch!” The dog ignored her and continued barking. “Patch!” With a sigh, Eileen set the wooden spoon across the top of the pan and went towards the open back door.

Patch’s barking was becoming frantic. The cottage was some distance from the nearest neighbours so fortunately there was no one to disturb, but she didn’t want the dog to get into bad habits, and besides, he might have got wind of a fox in the vicinity of the chicken run. She grabbed her blackthorn walking stick from its place by the door and hobbled outside, cursing her arthritic knees.

The chickens were scratching around in their pen, pecking at the corn she’d thrown to them earlier but there was no sign of Patch. She opened her mouth to call the dog when a hand closed around her neck at the same time as the walking stick was snatched from her hand.

Eileen’s scream was abruptly choked off in her throat. Filthy hands spun her round and pushed her back into the kitchen. Her feet slipped on the flagged floor and she started to fall.

Her scream echoed loudly around the white-washed stone walls of the cottage.

* * * * *

“Well?” Lester raised one eyebrow.

“Dr Fielding has agreed to treat two of the men here,” said Claudia. “He’ll be over later when he’s finished his shift at the hospital. I don’t think that will be a problem. The two we’ve got here weren’t the ones who attacked us. I’m not even convinced they had anything to do with them.” She had played the events of the attack over and over in her mind and she was now convinced that the two men being held at the hotel had been equally startled when the arrows had started flying.

“How’s Richards?”

“We brought him back with us. Simon Fielding says he’ll be fine, but he’ll be off active duty for a few weeks. He had to cut the arrowheads out of him. The points were barbed.

“How very uncivilised,” sniffed Lester. “Did Fielding buy the illegal immigrant story?”

“Of course he didn’t, James. The man’s not an idiot. As he told me himself, he was born and brought up around here.”

“Ah, yes, the great conspiracy of locals. I suppose we should be thankful for small mercies.”

Claudia nodded. Lester was right: only the understandable desire of most people in the area not to be turned into some sort of freak-show stood between them and the tabloid newspapers. The number of wild boar on the loose in the forest provided a convenient scapegoat for all manner of strange animal sightings and fortunately no more gorgonopsids had seen fit to come day-tripping, so it hadn’t been too difficult to keep matters out of the hands of the press.

Mary Mitchell appeared in the doorway, holding a tray of sandwiches. “What’s the diagnosis, Claudia?”

“What Ditzy expected,” said Claudia heavily. “I’m sorry, Mary, we don’t make life easy for you, do we? The good news is that the risk of cross-infection is slight as long as we take all proper precautions. Dr Fielding gave us a supply of surgical masks to cut down on the risk of airborne infection, and he’ll be giving everyone a course of antibiotics later.”

Mary Mitchell smiled. “Then there’s nothing to panic about, is there? Have something to eat, both of you. Jon and his group have just arrived back. Nick’s talking to them now, but it doesn’t look like they’ve found anything. They’ll be heading back out to cover some more ground in half an hour. The weather forecast is predicting heavy rain, so that should keep most people indoors.”

“Excellent,” said Claudia, conscious of the fact that she was starting to use her best jolly hockey sticks voice rather frequently at the moment.

“Can I take them some more food? They wolfed down the cheese and bread I took out there before you went to the hospital and they don’t look like they’ve had much to eat recently.”

Lester opened his mouth, probably to refuse the request, but Claudia forestalled him. “Yes, of course. What did you have in mind?”

“There’s some roast chicken left over from last night, and I’ve baked some more bread. Best keep it simple, I think.”

“Don’t make them too comfortable,” muttered Lester. “They might want to stay.”

“They might have no choice,” said Claudia acerbically, surprising herself by feeling a flash of sympathy for the men. Two of the men might have attacked her and Nick and injured Blade, but they were still trapped out of their own time, sick and almost certainly afraid. She ate one of the sandwiches Mary had brought and reached a decision. “We need to try to communicate with them, James.”

“And how do you propose we do that? Look up interpreters in the Yellow Pages? Hold up flash cards? Play charades?”

“I intend to do what I’m good at and improvise.” With that, Claudia swept out of the room, enjoying the feeling of having caught James Lester on the hop for once. She heard him make an irritated noise before he followed her.

The containment pens were located in a large barn behind the hotel. Five stainless steel cages of varying sizes were securely fixed to a white tiled floor. Only one of the smaller pens was occupied at the moment. The two men were crouched in one corner, sitting on blankets. One of the men was coughing loudly; the other stared around him, fear and anger warring for dominance in his eyes.

Ditzy and Finn were stationed in the barn, both wearing surgical masks over their noses and mouths. Connor was sitting cross-legged on the floor, also wearing a mask, busily making notes on his laptop. It was their first encounter with any other human beings from their past, and the young man clearly wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for research.

The medic didn’t look surprised to see Claudia. He simply handed her and Lester masks and told them not to get too close.

“How are they?” she asked.

“I’m certain the one who’s coughing is infected. The other one almost certainly is as well,” said Ditzy. “But there’s a good chance they’ll respond to the streptomycin.”

“With proper treatment, the mortality rate is only about 14%,” said Connor brightly. He’d clearly been looking up plague.

“Connor, are you connected to the internet here?” Claudia asked, hoping the answer was going to be yes.

He nodded. “Jim’s got a booster on his wi-fi signal.”

“Good. Can you go on line and find something called the Middle English Compendium, please.”

Connor’s eyes went wide with surprise. “We’re going to try to talk to them?” His fingers started to fly over the keyboard. “Cool.”

“I did English at university before I changed to read law. One of my tutors was obsessed with Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. I’m not sure how much I remember, but I’m prepared to give it a go. We need to convince them we’re here to help, don’t you agree, Lieutenant?”

“It won’t do any harm, ma’am,” said Ditzy. “We’re going to need to get close to them when Si Fielding gets here, and if we can do it without sedating them, it’ll help.”

“How close can I get without wearing a mask?”

“Not a good idea,” Ditzy said firmly. “Not the way matey over there is coughing.”

The mask would prevent the men watching her lips when she spoke, but she’d just have to do her best. She stepped forward, just as Nick appeared in the doorway.

“Stephen has radioed in,” he announced, without preamble. “They’ve found some tracks. I’m going out there with Lyle and his men.”

The professor glared at Ditzy, clearly daring him to argue, but all the medic did was roll his eyes and mutter, “On your own head be it, sir.”

Claudia turned around, the small mask dangling from her hand. “Be careful, Nick.”

He glanced from her to the caged men. “Be careful yourself, Claudia Brown.”

She smiled and pulled the mask over her head, settling it over her nose and mouth, then turned back to the two captives. One of them was muttering under his breath to his companion and staring at her in undisguised amazement. She took a couple of steps forward, until Ditzy’s hand on her arm told her she’d gone close enough. She was pretty sure she’d caught words she recognised as ‘curse’ and ‘hell’ but her university days were long past, and Middle English had never been something she’d taken a particular interest in. In spite of that she was determined to try to establish communication. They were dealing with men, not animals, and she didn’t want anyone – least of all Sir James Lester – to forget that.

She was certain now that neither of these men had actually tried to harm her. At first she’d looked no further than their ragged beards and equally ragged clothing and had not distinguished between any of them, but at that point she’d been shocked and frightened and hadn’t been thinking clearly. There was now a very distinct possibility that neither of these men were guilty of anything more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The older of the two stared at her, his face expressionless.

“Connor,” she said quietly. “I think the dictionary on that site allows you to look words up. I want to know what ‘help’ is.”

She heard the click of the keyboard, and then Connor announced, “Bugger, it looks like this thing only goes from Middle English to Modern English. Hang on a minute; let me have a fiddle about…”

Claudia stepped back to look over Connor's shoulder and watch him. The dictionary hadn’t existed in her student days, but she come across it a few years ago and had been interested enough to have played around with it for a while for old time’s sake. It wasn’t exactly user-friendly, but it did allow the user to look up by definition, which was exactly what she needed. “I know that 'we' was the same word," she said, as much to remind herself as to talk to Connor. “It was just pronounced ‘way’. But I don't know ‘help.’”

He typed in ‘help’.

“Abobbed?” he read off the screen, obviously confused.

“No, that's a noun...” Claudia began, but he was already clicking on the word.

“Blind man's bluff?” Connor read out in amazement. “I thought we wanted to talk to them not play games with them?”

Claudia shook her head in frustration. That was the problem she remembered. It threw up quite the oddest things at time. She felt like she was groping in the dark for something just out of reach. “It lets you look up parts of speech, as well, I think. Let's try ‘help’ and ‘verb.’”

It took them a few minutes to get the search right; the Middle English Compendium seemed to have been designed only for use by people who already knew Middle English, and that wasn’t too much use for what they were trying to do. Eventually they did find a useful verb, the word ‘helpen’.

“I could have made that up without all this faffing around,” Connor muttered, obviously unimpressed.

“Right,” Claudia said quietly. “So ‘we helpen’? Damn it, I need an auxiliary verb! What about ‘want’?” She was getting frustrated now, racking her brains for words that hovered just on the edge of her memory. She might not have enjoyed this sort of thing at university, but she had been good at it, that was what mattered.

Connor was flicking rapidly from page to page in the compendium, trying to get the hang of how the site worked.

A few minutes later, she went closer to the two filthy captives and said, doing her best to remember what the Canterbury Tales had sounded like read out loud, “We wille helpen yow,” although it came out more like ‘way willeh helpen yow.’ The people of that time had pronounced nearly all the letters, she did remember that much from her lectures.

That made the man's head snap up; for the first time he’d obviously heard something that made sense to him. He stared hard at her and spat the words, “Helpestow me?” with a glare. “I nille thine help. Thu holpest me and min kin...” He put his had protectively on the younger man’s shoulder.

Connor just sat there with his mouth hanging open but Claudia had worked in the Civil Service long enough to recognise sarcasm when she heard it, regardless of the language it was couched in.

Claudia interpreted for the benefit of Lester and the others. “He said, ‘You want to help me? I don't want your help. You helped me and my kin,’ but I think he’s being sarcastic, and then I'm not too sure about the rest.”

“Does tordes mean turds?” Connor hazarded with a grin.

Claudia sighed. Trust him to have picked that one up. “Probably,” she confirmed.

“I don't think he likes you much,” Connor observed, grinning. “But don’t take it personally. He probably thinks you’re a witch or something, dressed like that.”

Claudia took a deep breath and got ready to try again. “Here, let me use the computer for a minute.” It actually took her several minutes, and various different types of search but eventually she came up with a list of words she could use. She just hoped she had the conjugations and inflections correct, or at least understandable.

“Ye aren sik,” she said slowly, doing him the courtesy of using the formal you even if he wouldn't grant her the same. “Youre frendes and kin arn sik.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “We be sik?” he asked, emphasising the verb.

“Is he correcting your grammar?” Connor asked with delighted incredulity.

“Yes, Connor, he is correcting my grammar, though I’m damned if I know why, because they didn't even have standard grammar in his day!” Claudia exploded.

The man flinched and so did Connor.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said to both of them, before taking possession of the laptop again. “I…I,” she corrected her pronunciation from ‘eye’ to ‘ee’ and started again. “I repente…” She had no idea how to say what she wanted to apologise for, so she just left it at that and hoped he understood. “Yow… ye aren… ye be sik,” she tried again.

“Ye,” he said, and it took her a moment to realise that he was saying ‘yes’ and not ‘you.’ The note of sarcasm in his voice had actually helped that time. “We han the pestilence. We moten dien.” The sarcasm died abruptly like the flame of a match in a stiff breeze.

From Connor's soft gasp, Claudia knew he didn't need a translation.

“We wille helpen yow.”

“Ye moten dien als siker as we,” he muttered.

“No!” Claudia insisted. “None of us will die!”

He frowned at her.

She tried again in Middle English, consulting the list of words she had just made. “We ne shulen dien. Ye ne shulen dien.”

His forehead wrinkled, and she couldn't tell if it was from disbelief or from the effort of interpreting her somewhat dubious Middle English.

“We kan curen… yow,” she said, slowly and deliberately. “We… have… medicine. Oh, hell, that's modern again.”

“Medicine?” the man repeated. “Ye han medicine?” His pronunciation was different, but the sense was clear.

“Yes,” Claudia said. “I mean yea.”

“Yis?” the man hazarded.

“Yis,” she said, more confidently, taken her cue from him.

“Medicine ne kan curen this pestilence,” he said, but even so a note of hope remained in his voice.

“Oure… medicine… kan. We… we ne wille… we nille dien.” She met his eyes, willing him to understand her. “Ye nille dien.”

“I nyl dien, ac I mot dien,” he said, sadness clearly written on his filthy face.

Claudia stared at him in confusion. “I will not die, but I must die?” she queried. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“I nyl dien,” he repeated, speaking slowly and clearly.

“I can't find… wait, here it is,” Connor said, in triumph. “Nille, from ne wille… oh.”

“What?” Claudia was back looking over his shoulder again.

“He says he doesn't want to die. ‘Will’ doesn't seem to mean what our ‘will’ means. It means ‘want, desire to.’” Connor stared at the man, compassion in his dark eyes. “You won’t die, mate. Not if we have anything to do with it.”

Claudia squeezed Connor’s shoulder. “No one’s going to die.” She smiled at the men, even though her facial expression was hidden behind the surgical mask and repeated firmly, “Ye nille dien.”

The man put his arm around his companion’s shoulders again as another burst of coughing racked the other man’s slight frame. He held Claudia’s gaze, but for the first time there was the hint of a smile on his weary face.

And when Mary Mitchell brought out a pile of cold chicken and bread on paper plates, Claudia insisted on handing the food to the men herself, in spite of Ditzy’s protests.

She didn’t quite catch the man’s muttered words, but it sounded very much like he was thanking her. She drew the mask away from her face and smiled. That at least would need no translation.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryan pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck in an attempt to keep out the pervasive trickles of water that were already finding their way down his back. The clear cornflower blue of the sky had been obscured some while ago by dark clouds and within the past few minutes a steady stream of rain had started to fall.

A few paces in front of him Stephen went down on one knee, staring at red earth heavily impregnated with ochre, which would shortly turn into a very unappealing mud bath. Eventually the tracker looked up and nodded in answer to Ryan’s unasked question. Moments later he was on his feet again and moving, bent over in a crouch, still staring intently at the ground. Ryan stared around into the tangle of undergrowth, knowing Kermit and Fiver were doing the same. The prints Stephen had identified looked like they’d been made by a flat leather shoe with no heel.

They were in an area of the forest known as the Scowles. It was a labyrinth of hollows, some of them several metres deep, originally believed to be the surface remains of iron ore extraction, but now thought to be remnants of an ancient cave system. The ground had been eroded away over millions of years to leave a series of rocky dells and channels, overgrown with ancient yew trees and sprawling ferns. Ryan had spent long enough around the Forest of Dean with Lyle for company to absorb this sort of information like a sponge. He began to wonder if they’d need to widen the search area soon to include the caves and mines. No doubt Lyle was already thinking along the same lines.

They passed a dog-walker hurrying along, a waxed hat pulled down low over his brow. “Best of luck, boys,” the old man murmured, his black Labrador at his heels. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t seen anything odd.”

Ryan exchanged a grin with Stephen as they nodded to the man and continued on their way. Their operations in the Forest of Dean were an open secret amongst the locals, a fact that continued to give Lester grief, but so far the conspiracy of silence had been well-preserved.

The trail led up a slope into a denser area of trees where dark yews fought for dominance with equally old, tangled oaks. The tracker hesitated briefly to examine the ground again, and when he straightened up, there was a frown on his face.

“Whoever it is has a hole in their shoe,” he said, quietly. “It’s about a size seven.”

They moved off again, following Stephen’s lead.

Ryan thumbed the control on his radio and demanded a sit-rep from Lyle. The lieutenant had drawn a blank in his sector and, as Ryan had surmised, was considering widening the search to take in the underground workings. He had also been joined by Cutter and, according to Lyle, when the professor had left the hotel, Claudia and Connor had been trying to open communications with their prisoners.

“Stay on the surface, Jon,” Ryan ordered. “We haven’t encountered any radio interference yet, but Stephen says this trail is fairly fresh, so there’s a chance we’ve still got an open anomaly around here somewhere. Work your way over to…” he consulted his GPS and gave Lyle a grid reference. “Call Finn and get him out here as well. I want to see if he can follow the prints backwards. And keep Cutter out of trouble. I’m surprised Ditz let him slip the leash after that knock on the head.”

A chuckle from Lyle told him his friend had been thinking along similar lines.

An urgent, “Sir!” from Fiver brought them all to a halt. The young soldier pointed to a patch of bushes. “I heard something. It sounded like a whine.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows and nodded for Fiver to investigate. He approached the tangle of undergrowth cautiously, brushing aside leafy branches. Ryan could hear it now, a low whine. Fiver started to talk softly to something, and a minute later he backed out with a small, white dog cradled in his arms. A black eye-patch spread around to one ear, and the dog looked like it had somersaulted over in the mud at some point. Fiver knelt down on the red earth to take a closer look at the animal, all the while speaking to it in a soothing voice as he ran one hand down the dog’s flanks.

“No prizes for guessing what he’s called,” Kermit commented.

“Patch,” Fiver announced, reading the small metal tag on the dog’s collar, to a pleased grin from his comrade. He slipped a length of webbing strap through the dog’s collar to use as a lead and straightened up. “Sir, I’ve got a feeling about this.”

Ryan nodded. Fiver wasn’t the only one who’d jumped to a conclusion. There was a phone number and a postcode on the reverse of the tag. Kermit entered the code into his GPS while Ryan got out his mobile and rang the number. The call went unanswered. They moved off again, with Stephen in the lead and Fiver just behind with the dog. Emboldened in the company of his new companions, Patch tried to pull ahead. It was obvious what direction the dog wanted to go in, and it coincided with both the trail Stephen was following and the course predicted by the GPS.

Stephen moved smoothly along the rough path, rarely having to stop to check his course now, and Ryan and his men followed behind, their previous banter replaced by a quiet watchfulness. The tracks led to a stile set in a three-strand wire fence that didn’t look like it would hold very much back, but it seemed to denote the boundary of the forest, as beyond it an unmade road ran along the edge of the trees. Muddy prints on the stile indicated that their quarry had passed this way. Fiver lifted the dog over with him and had to hold onto the webbing strap to prevent the animal breaking into a run.

“There’s a cottage up there,” said Stephen. “How do you want to play this, Ryan?”

“We stay out of sight, for a start off. Fiver, tie the dog up somewhere. Kermit, check the ground. See how close you can get without being seen from a window.”

“Yes, boss.” Kermit jumped lightly over the stile and melted back into the edge of the trees. It was at times like this that Ryan cursed their black uniforms and made a mental note to raise the issue of camouflage gear again with Lester.

The fading light helped and even though he knew where Kermit was, Ryan still found it hard to make him out in the shadow of the trees. Once Fiver had secured the dog, the three men split up, moving smoothly into positions where they could each keep a watch on a different aspect of the brick-built cottage.

Ryan moved quietly to a position where he had a good view of the rear of the cottage, but one which didn’t bring him too close to the large chicken run. He didn’t want to disturb the birds. Half a dozen or more brown hens scratched at the earth of their run, clucking quietly to themselves, pecking at a scatter of corn amongst the thin grass of their enclosure. They’d been fed that day, by the look of it.

“Boss,” Kermit’s voice in his ear was low and urgent. “I can hear voices in the kitchen but I can’t understand them.”

“Welsh?”

“Nope.”

Ryan wasn’t surprised. It just confirmed what he’d expected. He’d need to play this carefully or they’d end up with a hostage situation on their hands. “Stay where you are, and don’t try anything. Tell me if anything changes. Fiver, where are you?”

“Front door,” murmured Fiver. “I can get it open quietly if we need to go in.”

“Hold position,” Ryan ordered. “Hart?”

“Climbing a tree,” reported his lover nonchalantly. “I reckon I can get a line of sight into the kitchen window from up here.”

Time passed slowly, the way it always did when they were preparing for action, when seconds seemed to stretch into eternity and minutes turned into hours. But waiting was what they were good at. They’d certainly had enough practice.

“It’s our guy, all right,” confirmed Stephen, a few minutes later, not even panting from his exertions.

“Armed?”

“He’s got a knife shoved through his belt but that looks about all. I can’t see the owner, but there’s someone in a rocking chair, facing into the room.”

“What’s happening?”

Stephen hesitated then said, “They’re about to have a meal, by the look of it. The lad has just handed whoever’s in the chair a bowl of what looks like soup.”

“They’re having something to eat?” Ryan wondered if this job would ever lose its capacity for surprise.

“Looks like it,” Stephen said. “So what do we do?”

“Wait. I want to be sure there’s only the one bloke.” Ryan checked his watch. “Report again in five minutes. If threat levels change, we go in, but wait for my signal. I don’t want anyone going off half-cocked.”

Five minutes passed uneventfully. Stephen reported that the man had finished eating, and so had the occupant of the rocking chair. The young man had used his knife to hack chunks off a loaf of bread, which he had promptly and unceremoniously devoured and then he’d left the knife on the table.

Ryan turned the options over in his mind. If the man had the plague they needed to minimise his contact with the owner of the house, but it was a question of how to go about it. He had a strong suspicion that the other person in the kitchen was an elderly woman. The washing line contained aprons and the sort of underwear that wouldn’t have looked out of place on his Nan’s clothes drier when she’d been alive, so that ruled out chucking in a flash-bang. He didn’t want a heart-attack victim on his hands.

“Hart, if the subject steps away from that knife I want to know about it. Fiver, get that door open and do it quietly. Kermit, on my word, I want you in. Fiver, you follow him. I want them both alive. Got it?”

A chorus of assent told him they had. A moment later Fiver reported that he had the door open ready for entry.

Less than a minute later, Stephen’s voice came back over the radio. “He’s taken two steps away from the table, leaving the knife behind.”

That was what the captain had been waiting for. “Go, now!” Ryan ordered.

Seconds later his men burst into the cottage through the front and back doors, weapons raised, yelling loudly in a standard entry manoeuvre they’d practised time and time again. Ryan was hard on their heels, no more than 30 seconds behind Kermit who already had the young man bent over the table, both arms forced up his back. Fiver had his Glock drawn and was pointing it at the man’s head.

“Don’t hurt him!” The old woman’s voice cut through the shouted commands being directed at their captive by Ryan’s men like a hot knife through butter.

Ryan turned to face the occupant of the rocking chair, a woman who looked to be in her late 70s, with grey hair pulled back into a bun from which a few wisps were already escaping. Her pale blue eyes were watery but her voice was firm. She pushed herself up out of the chair, but gave a gasp of pain as her right foot met the floor.

“Ma’am?” Ryan was at her side in an instant, offering her his arm to steady herself. “Sorry about the dramatic arrival, but we needed to ensure your safety.”

She stared him straight in the eye and sniffed dismissively. “Can’t I eat lunch with a friend in peace?”

“Do your friends usually scare your dog off, ma’am?” Ryan countered, his voice level and polite as he watched his men securing their captive.

“Patch barks a lot but he’s not awfully brave. There was a misunderstanding, nothing more than that. Now are you going to tell me your name, young man, or are you just going to stand there trying to look like you’re in charge?”

Ryan grinned. She definitely reminded him of his Nan. “Captain Ryan, at your service, Mrs… ?”

“Eileen Allen. And I very much doubt that that you are at my service, Captain Ryan,” she sniffed. “But there’s a pile of wood out the back that needs chopping if you really want to be useful.”

“A cup of tea and an explanation wouldn’t go amiss, ma’am,” he said, recognising superior force when it stared up at him out of rheumy eyes. “Then maybe we’ll see what we can do about the wood. But I need to get your guest away from here first. It’s possible he’s carrying a disease, and we need to minimise the possibilities for infection.”

The woman stared at Ryan with a disconcertingly direct gaze. “He’s been here for something in the region of an hour. Another short while can’t make that much of a difference. The kettle’s on the stove, tea’s on the dresser and milk’s in the larder. Now would you mind letting Thomas go? Then we can talk about this like civilised people, Captain.”

Ryan pressed the transmit button on his radio. “Hart, untie the dog, then come and join us, we’re about to put the kettle on.” A moment later, while Ryan was reporting their situation over the radio to his second in command, the small white dog burst into the kitchen, barking madly, his stumpy tail wagging, followed by Stephen, his rifle slung over his shoulder. Patch’s owner sat back down in the rocking chair, cradling the dog in her lap.

The young man said something in a language that Ryan couldn’t quite understand, but from the tone of the lad’s voice it sounded like an apology.

To Ryan’s surprise, Eileen Allen answered him haltingly, in what sounded very much like the same language. “Aye ascusen yow.” Or at least that was what Ryan thought she’d said.

He rattled off something in reply too fast for Ryan to even begin to follow. Eileen Allen held up her hand and said, “Speke thee slowliche.”

Ryan guessed that she had just told the man to speak more slowly because he repeated what he’d said, this time leaving a noticeable gap between each word, but Ryan still couldn’t pick up more than a word here or there although it looked like their hostess was doing somewhat better when it came to understanding her ‘guest’.

“Thomas says he means no harm, Captain Ryan, and I believe him. Now would you do him the courtesy of untying his hands? I think I’m entitled to have some say in the matter while you’re in my house, don’t you?”

“I can’t risk him making a run for it, ma’am. I have your safety and that of others to think of. As I said before, he might be sick. I need to get him checked by a doctor.”

“Then untie his hands and call a doctor, young man. There are four of you, after all.” The kettle on the stove let out a loud whistle, causing the man called Thomas to stare around him in alarm. “And will someone please make some tea! You’ll find some fresh mint in a jar by the sink. I think Thomas would prefer that.”

With something approaching resignation, Ryan watched Stephen treat Eileen Allen to his best smile. “I’ll make the tea, ma’am.” He shot Ryan a disarming grin. “Kermit and Fiver can keep an eye on Thomas while you call Claudia. How does that sound, Ryan?”

“Release his hands, lads,” said Ryan, knowing when he’d been out-manoeuvred.

“Sugar, ma’am?” asked Stephen, politely, his blue eyes twinkling in a way that few people could resist.

Ryan wondered what the chances of cake and biscuits were.

Eileen Allen smiled and waved her hand at a large tin on the dresser. “Help yourself, Captain.”

He sighed. The resemblance to his Nan was now complete. She’d always known when to bring out the biscuit tin as well. It looked like they were all going to observe the social niceties whether they wanted to or not. He pulled out his mobile phone. Claudia would no doubt get on like a house on fire with Mrs Allen.


	5. Chapter 5

Claudia pressed the button on her mobile to end the call, slipped the phone back into her pocket and announced, “Ryan and Stephen have found another man, not much more than a boy, by the sound of it.”

“It might be cause for a bigger celebration if you’d told me Lyle and Cutter had found the anomaly,” said Lester, clearly none too impressed by her news. “So we’ll need another holding pen. I’ll speak to Jim.”

“They’re people, not animals, James!” Claudia snapped, more sharply than she’d intended.

Lester opened his mouth to reply then obviously thought better of it. He laid a hand briefly on Claudia’s arm and said in a more conciliatory tone, “Then what do you want me to do with our latest guest?”

Claudia gave a small laugh. “According to Ryan, that was how the old lady kept referring to him – as her guest. There was something else, as well, James. Ryan said she was able to speak a few words of his language.”

Lester’s eyebrows shot up. “Maybe she studies Chaucer in her spare time.” But her boss sounded as puzzled as she felt.

“I suspect not. Nothing in our lives is ever that simple. I need to get over there with Ditzy.” She glanced at her watch. Dr Fielding should have come off his shift by now. She’d been expecting him to arrive any time in the last half an hour. Claudia decided to call him and divert the doctor over to Mrs Allen’s cottage first to check out their latest visitor. If he appeared healthy – and according to Ryan that seemed to be the case – that would be one less concern.

“Simon? I’m sorry to disturb you, it’s Claudia Brown…”

“Claudia, I’m sorry.” The doctor sounded rushed. “I’ve had problems coming out of my ears. Give me another few minutes and I’ll be on my way.”

“How are the men?”

“One of them is coughing his guts up. The other’s a bit better, but I’m certain he’s infected as well. I’ve stuffed them full of streptomycin and steroids. I’ve given the lad you left with them a shot too, just to be on the safe side.”

“We’re hoping we can move them soon,” Claudia lied smoothly. “Simon, I’ve still got two people I need you to check out at the Mitchells’ and we’ve tracked down another one as well. I’ll text you the address and meet you there as soon as you’re free. I’d prefer you to see him first.”

She heard the doctor’s sharp intake of breath, but to his credit, all he did was agree.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way.” The noise of raised voices in the background cut over the doctor’s words, and she heard someone swearing loudly, in a voice that sounded out of control. “Got to go,” said the doctor quickly. “Our local druggie is kicking up a fuss in reception.”

“He’ll meet me at the old lady’s cottage,” Claudia informed Lester, as she forwarded the address Ryan had sent to her on to the doctor. “Sounds like the poor man has had his hands full today.”

“Haven’t we all?” Lester muttered.

Claudia ignored him and made her way out to the barn, where Connor and Ditzy, with one remaining soldier, were still keeping watch on the two men. She noticed a frown on the medic’s face as she entered and wondered what had been happening in her absence.

Connor appeared to be still poring over the Middle English Compendium and attempting to talk to their captives. She heard Connor repeating what sounded like ‘Efel’, questioningly and saw that both men were nodding.

He turned round as he heard her enter the barn. “I think they’re trying to tell us that one of the other guys isn’t very nice,” he declared.

“I think I was already aware of that, Connor,” Claudia said with a grimace.

Connor consulted the notes he had been making on his laptop and said, “OK, if I’ve got this right, Edmund,” he pointed at the taller of the two men, “says that one of the blokes who attached you is a daunger which I think means ‘danger’ to women – which would be right, obviously. I think they’d been hanging around Edmund’s village and had attacked someone and maybe stolen some money, and Edmund and John had gone after them. There had also been an animal attack. He said something about being ‘in dreed off cruel beestis’.”

One of the men nodded vigorously at Connor’s words and made a gesture with hands like a fisherman describing the size of his catch, presumably indicating the size of the beast they had been following. Something about two metres high, from what Claudia could gather.

“Brihte lihtes,” he added.

Claudia didn’t need the Middle English Compendium for a translation of those two words. She smiled at Connor. “You’re doing well. Keep talking to them and see what else you can find out. It will help if you can get them to trust us.”

From what Connor had just said, it looked very much like those two men were innocent villagers who had been trying to rid the area of a couple of unsavoury characters and recover what had been stolen. But unless they had followed the other two men for quite some distance, it looked like they might well be dealing with an intermittent anomaly and with their limited resources they might be better keeping watch on the area immediately surrounding the spot where she and Nick been attacked, rather than simply roaming around the forest in the hope of finding something.

Ryan agreed with her assessment of the situation and while Claudia was driving over to Mrs Allen’s cottage, she knew the captain would be ordering Lyle and his men back to where they’d started from. Connor would telephone her if he obtained any more useful information.

As Claudia flicked on her indicator light to make a sharp turn into the unmade track leading to Mrs Allen’s house, she noticed another car doing the same from the opposite direction. It looked like Dr Fielding had arrived as well. They both parked and she shook hands with the young doctor.

“Thanks for coming, Simon.”

Simon Fielding sighed, quite obviously not happy with what he was being asked to do. “OK, Claudia, let me take a look at this latest illegal immigrant of yours then I’ll get over to the Mitchells’ place and start treating the other two. I’m still not convinced we can keep this lot under wraps and the longer it goes on, the more trouble we’ll have.”

“I’m well aware of that, Simon. We’re doing our best, I can promise you that.”

The kitchen of the small cottage was already crowded. An elderly woman with thin grey hair pulled back into an untidy bun was sitting in a large rocking chair petting a small white dog, while a frightened-looking boy of no more than 15 sat on a footstool next to her, his arms wrapped around his knees. The boy had dark, roughly-cut hair and a thin beard that made him look older than he was. He was dressed in a woollen tunic, tied at the waist with a strip of leather, cloth leggings and worn leather shoes laced at the ankle. They looked like they’d been patched several times, as had the rest of the lad’s clothes.

Claudia smiled at the boy. “Welcome.” She thought the word was close enough to something he would understand and the startled look he gave her said she hadn’t been far off the mark. She held her hand out to the old lady. “Claudia Brown, Home Office. Mrs Allen, this is Dr Fielding from the hospital. I’m sorry to have invaded your house like this, but we’re here to help.”

“By brandishing guns at my guest, young lady? That doesn’t seem entirely helpful.” The old woman reminded Claudia rather uncomfortably of one of her primary school teachers and it was clear that she wasn’t in the least bit over-awed by a combination of armed soldiers and government officials.

“That was a misunderstanding, Mrs Allen, but an understandable one. Your young friend isn’t the only person to have arrived in the forest, and the others are not all as harmless. I was attacked earlier today by two men, and the soldier who saved me from their… attentions was injured in the same incident.”

Claudia’s gamble looked to have paid off as Mrs Allen’s eyes clearly betrayed her shock. “I… had no idea,” the old woman said quietly. “How many people have…” she hesitated again, then sighed and started again. “How many people have come through, Miss Brown?”

“Please, call me Claudia. We’re dealing with five people, we think.” Claudia was not surprised by the way Mrs Allen phrased her question. The anomalies were an open secret with so many of the people who lived in the forest. “Can you explain to your friend that Dr Fielding needs to examine him to see if he is sick? And maybe while he’s doing that we can have a little chat?”

Eileen Allen tapped the boy on the shoulder and pointed at Simon Fielding. “Thomas, leche… wille examinen yow. Helpen yow.”

The boy’s eyes were wide and frightened and Claudia could see he was starting to shake, which was hardly surprising considering he was surrounded by so many people, all staring at him.

Simon Fielding held his hand down to the boy. “Come with me, Thomas.” He spoke slowly and clearly, his tone reassuring. The boy uncurled himself from the floor and took the doctor’s hand.

Eileen Allen smiled encouragingly and nodded. “Use my parlour, Doctor. You’ll not be over-looked in there.”

Claudia saw Ryan move to follow them and shook her head slightly. “I’m sure waiting outside the door will be sufficient, Captain.”

“Ma’am,” Ryan acknowledged, doing his best to appear non-threatening and not entirely succeeding.

“More tea?” Stephen suggested, earning himself a grateful look from their hostess.

Claudia smiled. Tea was the British answer to everything, including possible plague-carrying refugees from the Middle Ages. “That would be lovely.”

“You might as well make yourself at home, dear,” Eileen Allen said. “You’re going to tell me we need to talk, aren’t you?”

“Something like that,” Claudia admitted. “Mrs Allen, how come you can speak the same language as Thomas?”

“I learnt it from my grandmother.”

Of all possible answers, Claudia had to admit she hadn’t been expecting that one. “Do you think you could start at the beginning? We really do want to help, but I’m getting the very strong feeling that there’s an awful lot here we don’t understand.”

“And I’m not the only one keeping secrets, am I?” Mrs Allen’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve lived around here all my life, Claudia Brown. I know what goes on in the forest. You don’t think we’re all deaf and blind around here, do you? Soldiers with guns running around the place. That business with the poor young girl who used to work at the Mitchells’ hotel and her boyfriend. You can’t keep things like that quiet. People talk, you know. Even if we don’t talk to reporters,” she added. “We’ll wait until we see what Dr Fielding has to say, shall we? Then I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

They sat in companionable silence until Dr Fielding came back into the room, followed by Thomas. The young man had a wide smile on his face as he announced to his protector, “I nyl sik!”

Eileen Allen wasn’t the only one who smiled in relief at that statement. Claudia raised her eyebrows enquiringly at Simon Fielding.

“I can’t guarantee he isn’t carrying it,” the doctor replied. “But the good news is that he isn’t showing any symptoms and I’ve given him some streptomycin as a precaution.”

Claudia wasn’t sure how either Nick or Lester would react to the news that Simon Fielding had already started to treat the men, but on balance she agreed with Ditzy. They’d been sending animals back dosed with modern tranquilisers for long enough. “That’s good news, Simon, thank you. Would mind going over to the Mitchells’ hotel now? I’ll be with you later. And regardless of anything that Nick or James might say, the men are to be treated as you think appropriate. That isn’t negotiable.”

“No, it isn’t,” Fielding agreed. “They’re my patients now, Claudia, regardless of where they’ve come from.” He nodded pleasantly to Mrs Allen, smiled at Thomas and left.

“He’s a good man,” Mrs Allen commented as the doctor left the cottage. “You’re lucky that he’s forest born and bred. I’m not going to let you take Thomas away, Miss Brown, you do realise that, don’t you?”

“He can’t stay here, Mrs Allen, you must understand that.”

“He might be healthy now, but if he goes back he’s not likely to stay that way for long.”

“We can’t interfere with history,” Claudia said.

Mrs Allen’s eyes widened. “Why ever not? It isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened and it won’t be the last, either, whatever you might hope. The world didn’t end when my grandmother stayed, so I don’t think for a moment that it’ll end if Thomas stays, either.” She folded her arms over her chest and stared calmly at Claudia. “Besides, if you think I’m going to stand by and let you send my own uncle back to a time when almost half the country died, you have another think coming, young lady. He lost his mother – my grandmother – when she was swallowed by one of the forest lights seven years ago in his own time and it vanished before she could return. When he saw that another light had appeared in the same place, he went looking for her. This happens to be the nearest house to that particular spot, which is why they both ended up here.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “He doesn’t know yet that she’s long dead and I’d like to break that news to him in private, if you don’t mind.”

While she was speaking, Thomas sat on the footstool and beamed around at everyone unaware of what was being said. The news that he wasn’t sick had clearly worked wonders for him, but Mrs Allen’s speech had managed to render everyone else speechless.

Claudia wondered if the same would be true of Lester when he heard the news. And how Nick would react to these revelations was anyone’s guess.


	6. Chapter 6

“No, she bloody well can’t keep him!” Lester sounded totally outraged. “He comes from the Middle Ages not Battersea Dogs Home. He’s going back and that’s final.”

“He wants to stay, James, and Mrs Allen is happy to have him.”

“Claudia, that’s not the point.” Nick was demonstrating solidarity with Lester for once and Claudia was starting to feel somewhat beleaguered. “We can’t take risks like that with history.”

“His mother stayed and history doesn’t appear to have suffered.”

“You don’t know that,” Nick said flatly.

“Nick, he’s a human being. He has the right to decide for himself.”

“Claudia, you’re being ridiculous…”

“Don’t patronise me, Nick!” Claudia glared at both men. “Look, I don’t pretend to understand all this, but let’s examine a few facts. Thomas’s mother came through an anomaly 127 years ago. He was only eight at the time. He saw her swallowed up by a bright light and she didn’t come back. Seven years later, another anomaly opens in the same place and leads here, now. In the meantime, Thomas’s mother spent her whole life here, had children, grew old and died. Nothing about what we do is simple. Creatures have died. People have died. And if Thomas goes back, the chances are he’ll die as well.”

“He has to go back!”

“He’s only a boy. He lost his mother when he was a child. Every other member of his family has died of the plague. He’s frightened. It isn’t as simple as you might want to think.”

“And the others?” interjected Lester. “We have four more men to consider, Claudia, or had you forgotten them?”

She set her mouth in a hard line and ignored the implied jibe. “Edmund and John have families, James. They want to return home. They’re prepared to take their chance. Connor and I have talked to them. Dr Fielding thinks the antibiotics will give them a reasonable chance of survival. But it’s their choice. Just as it’s Thomas’s choice to stay here.”

“And the other two?” Nick demanded.

“We deport them back to their own time as soon as possible,” said Lester testily. “I am not keeping dangerous criminals here any longer than strictly necessary.”

“And what if the anomaly doesn’t reopen, James?”

“We could always see if the Australians will take them.”

For a moment Claudia seriously considered screaming. Arguing with either of the men was never easy at the best of times and when they were tag-teaming against her they were immeasurably worse.

Unless the anomaly was very well hidden, they had to assume that either they had another intermittent one on their hands – the same as the Permian anomaly – or, alternatively, that it had opened for a second time, closed again and was not going to reopen, maybe not for several years, maybe not at all. If that proved to be the case, they would have five refugees from the past on their hands and no idea whatsoever how to deal with them.

In her own mind, Thomas, the youngest of their ‘guests’, posed the least problem. He was only a few years younger than his mother had been when she’d ended up stranded out of her own time. Like her, he would adapt to life in the 21st century and Eileen Allen would help him. He was young enough to be her grandson, and that was no doubt how he would be passed off to everyone else. In addition, the Forest of Dean being what it was, few if any questions would be asked. He would need an identity, but that could be provided and, for all his objections, she knew that if it became necessary, Lester would co-operate.

Edmund and John would find things harder if they had to stay but, again, she suspected that the forest would find a way of looking after its own. The other two men – as yet nameless – presented the most difficulty. From the information Connor had obtained, both were criminals with a history of theft and violence, particularly towards women, as she’d found out to her cost.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Mary Mitchell popped her head into the room they were using for meetings. “Edmund and John are in the guest cottage now, Claudia. Ditzy is with them and Dr Fielding says he’ll be in to see you in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Mary.” Claudia presented a defiant face to both Nick and Lester and waited to see which of them would comment first. She’d over-ruled their objections and had insisted on the two men being moved to more comfortable surroundings once they’d established that they posed no threat.

To her surprise, neither man made any comment. They maintained an uneasy silence until Dr Fielding arrived.

“With the right treatment, I think both men will make a full recovery,” the doctor announced, in response to the expectant looks that greeted him as soon as he walked through the door.

“Remind me to send flowers,” Lester muttered. “Thank you for your co-operation, Doctor. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how sensitive matters are?”

“You have five men who don’t belong here and four of them have plague. Yes, I’d say that’s pretty sensitive.”

Lester winced delicately. “It’s making life… interesting,” he admitted. “What are the chances of the infection spreading?”

“With modern hygiene and antibiotics we should be able to contain the problem, but I can’t keep those other men in my hospital indefinitely, Sir James.”

“Then what do you suggest we do with them?” Lester met the young doctor’s eyes unflinchingly. “If we follow your advice and send them to the isolation facilities in Cheltenham we may lose the chance to… repatriate them, should the opportunity arise.”

“And what chance is there of that?” Simon Fielding demanded.

“We have no bloody idea,” Nick admitted. “It could be hours, it could be weeks, it could be never.”

“Then you need to make some plans and you need to make them fast.” Dr Fielding’s words and his tone were uncompromising. “I have two sick men in the hospital and an armed guard on the door. That’s not inconspicuous by anyone’s standards, not even around here.” He stopped, took a deep breath and then added, “You have until 10am tomorrow morning to get them home and if you haven’t, I’m sending them to St Luke’s. What you do with them after that is up to you. In the meantime, I’ve left a supply of antibiotics with Dave Owen. He knows what to do.”

The door closed behind him, leaving three people staring at each other in silence.

* * * * *

“Coffee?” Nick’s question pulled Claudia out of her reverie. She’d spent the last hour in the residents’ sitting room in the hotel, turning the problem over and over in her mind and she was still no nearer to knowing what to do.

“Thanks.” She accepted the mug and made room for Nick on the large leather sofa.

“Where’s Lester?”

“On the phone pulling in a few favours from a friend in the Prison Service.”

“The Prison Service?” Nick sounded shocked.

“We need somewhere to put those two men, Nick. And it will have to be somewhere secure.”

“The anomaly might still reopen.”

Claudia sighed. “Yes, it might, but we have to plan for a worst case scenario. Simon Fielding is right, we can’t just bury our heads in the sand and hope the problem goes away. That’s why James is on the phone now to his contacts.” She sipped at her coffee and stared into the log fire. Outside, the rain was teeming down and no doubt making life totally miserable for the soldiers still patrolling the relevant area of the forest.

A warm hand settled on hers. She twined her fingers in Nick’s, glad of the human contact. The shock of the assault earlier in the day had taken its toll on her, but she was trying hard not to let it cloud her judgment.

The creak of the heavy oak door opening announced Lester’s arrival. “Gloucester Prison will take them on remand once the paperwork has been processed. Until then, if they have to go to Cheltenham Hospital I’ll need some of Ryan’s unit to continue to stand guard. We can’t risk those men getting loose in the community.”

They were going to need more men at this rate. It was just their luck that Captain Stringer and his men were unavailable. The Special Forces Director had been apologetic, but he’d made it abundantly clear that he had no more available resources. Claudia was seriously considering asking Ryan whether he thought it would be worth calling in men from the Territorial SAS.

Lester, who’d been privy to her telephone conversations a few hours ago, had the look of a man still hoping for his fairy godmother to turn up and wave a magic wand. His expression softened for a moment and he commented, “Claudia, you look exhausted. I’ll call you immediately if there are any developments, but in the meantime why not try to get some sleep?”

She shook her head stubbornly. “I’m fine, James.” She finished her coffee and set the mug down on the hearth. “Nick, how’s your head?”

Nick grinned. “I think Ditzy’s waiting for me to keel over, just so he can say he told me so. But I’m fine as well.” He ran his hand lightly though his hair causing it to look even more startled than usual. “Bit of a bump, but that’s all.”

Lester opened his mouth, presumably to make the obligatory remark about knocking some sense into Nick’s head, when they heard heavy footsteps approaching at a run. Ryan burst into the room without ceremony looking more agitated than Claudia had ever seen him.

“We’ve got multiple anomalies in the forest, all in the vicinity of the Permian anomaly and that one’s going berserk. It’s opened and closed three times in quick succession. Something tried to come through and got sliced in half when it closed. Kermit says that area of the forest is lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.” It was a measure of Ryan’s agitation that he was actually swearing, something that Claudia had almost never heard him do when giving a report, no matter how extreme the circumstances were.

Claudia and Nick jumped to their feet, both demanding, “How many?”

Ryan’s phone rang again. “Kermit? Lyle’s on his way. Cover as many as you can. I don’t want anything getting loose. We don’t have the resources for hunting strays.” He glanced at Nick and Claudia, awaiting instructions. “Professor, ma’am, are we authorised to kill any creatures that try to come through?”

“Only as a last resort!” Nick declared.

“Yes, if there’s no other choice,” said Claudia quickly.

“The casting vote would appear to be mine, Captain,” Lester commented wryly. “Secure the anomalies by all means necessary, including the use of deadly force.”

Ryan nodded. “Kill if you have to, Kermit. Keep me informed.” Ryan’s phone rang again, almost immediately. “Dane, what’s the problem?” Claudia watched as Ryan’s eyes widened. Whatever it was, the news was clearly unwelcome. Dane was the man Ryan had left on guard at the hospital. A moment later, Ryan swore violently then ordered, “No, he could be anywhere now. I’ll send Hart. If anyone can follow his trail he can. Get back to Sector 6, we have multiple anomalies.”

The Special Forces captain ended the call, his face wiped studiously clean of emotion. “One of the men appeared to collapse and the other one started coughing his guts up. Dane went to get Fielding. There was some sort of problem with a knife-wielding drug addict and by the time they’d got back upstairs the other man had chucked a chair through a locked window and jumped after it. The forest comes right up to the back of the hospital so he would have been straight into it.”

“I’ll go over there with Stephen,” Claudia said quickly. “James, make sure we have Edmund and John ready to be taken to the anomalies if we can identify one that leads back to their time.”

“And the boy?” The question came from Nick.

“If he wants to stay, he stays. He’s a human being, Nick, he has rights.”

“They haven’t invented human rights where – when – he comes from,” Lester said testily.

“He’s here now and we have!” Claudia snapped. “If you try to force that boy back against his will, James, you’ll have my resignation on your desk in the morning.”

“Claudia…”

Nick put his hand on her arm, but Claudia shook him off. “Ryan, Mrs Allen is at no risk from Thomas and you need every man we have available.”

Ryan nodded and started to call Fiver.

Claudia stared at both Nick and Lester, daring the two men to contradict her. She saw the exchanges of glances between them and noted Lester’s almost imperceptible shrug. Without waiting for Nick’s reaction, she left the room in search of Stephen and within a few minutes they were in Claudia’s car, driving through the dark and the rain towards Dilke Memorial Hospital.

Stephen was carrying what looked like a small arsenal of weapons, but Claudia didn’t feel like complaining. They were in the middle of mounting chaos, rapidly running out of resources and now had a plague-carrier loose in the forest again. It didn’t seem like the time or the place to quibble about a team member’s choice of weaponry and she knew Stephen well enough to know that he would never shoot to kill unless he had no other option available.

She pulled the car off the main road and drove straight up to the main entrance. As the car doors slammed, Dane came down the steps to meet them, closely followed by Dr Fielding.

“Simon?”

“The man died, Claudia,” he said quickly. “The coughing fit was genuine and I think in his case the disease had turned septicemic. He brought up a lot of blood and died before I could do anything. The other man’s collapse was faked.” He shot a glance at the stony-faced soldier at his side. “It wasn’t Dane’s fault. We had a ruckus in reception, he came to tell me about the man’s collapse and walked right into it. One of our nurses ended up with a knife to her throat, so it was a bloody good job that Dane was there. A fully-armed soldier was a bit more than Jason was expecting. He’s harmless most of the time, but today wasn’t one of his better days.”

“It’s not one of our better days either, Simon. We need to find that man.” She turned to Dane. “Go with Stephen.”

“Claudia?” Stephen looked at her questioningly.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to risk slowing you down. But Stephen, he’s a human being, you will remember that, won’t you?”

Stephen nodded and without another word he and Dane were gone, heading off across the car park and towards the dark tangle of trees.

Claudia watched them go then fished her car keys out of her pocket. “Thank you for your help, Simon. I’ll call you as soon as we have some news.”

He nodded, making no attempt to conceal the concern on his face. “Be careful, Claudia.”

She dredged up a smile. “Easier said than done in my job, I’m afraid.”


	7. Chapter 7

Claudia watched Stephen and the soldier slip away into the trees. A low growl of thunder signalled that the storm was gathering intensity and a moment later, a flash of lightning lit the sky.

She shivered and pulled her coat around her before making a quick dash across the car park. There was no point in staying at the hospital. The search for the missing man was in Stephen’s hands now. She turned the key in the ignition and immediately activated the windscreen wipers. The road outside the hospital was already awash with water, although fortunately most people seemed to be staying inside out of the rain, which she hoped would make the soldiers’ job easier. The last thing they needed was civilians out and about in the middle of an anomaly-infested countryside.

With the headlights on, Claudia made her way slowly back in the direction of the hotel. A jagged flash ripped through the trees, lighting up the road in front of her. A dark shape moved inside the forest to her left then swerved without warning across the road. She half-expected to see some sort of dinosaur, but instead, caught in the beam of her lights, was one of the wild boars that roamed at large through the area. Instinctively, Claudia stamped on the brakes, knowing instantly that she’d just done exactly the wrong thing. Her wheels started to skid. She lifted her foot off the brake, steering into the skid, not against it, following the teaching she’d been given a few years before on a defensive driving course. For a moment, she thought she was going to succeed in bringing the car under control, then her wheels hit a deeper patch of water and the brief flare of hope died.

The car drifted sideways, narrowly missing a tree. The wheels bounced off the road and slipped down into a ditch, flinging Claudia forward. The seatbelt held her in place and she tensed, anticipating the moment of impact. A moment later the airbag inflated, cushioning her, but inducing a sickening feeling of suffocation as she fought with her hands to keep it clear of her face. The car came to an abrupt halt with a loud bang. She jerked in the restraining straps, feeling like a puppet whose strings had been violently yanked…

* * * * *

Stephen bent down, examined a print in the red mud of the forest floor then motioned to Dane to keep behind him as he moved off again. The temptation to break into a run whilst following the trail was almost overwhelming, but he knew that if he did he risked missing any clues left behind by the fugitive. The escaped man’s bare feet hadn’t left much of an impression behind them and, away from any of the tracks that criss-crossed the area, picking out footprints on a bed of wet leaves and twigs was by no means easy.

They were beyond the hospital grounds now, heading away from the village but still in an area popular with dog-owners and other walkers. The light was fading fast and the heavy canopy of trees made matters worse. Stephen was using the torch mounted on his borrowed M4 rifle. With numerous anomalies breaking out all over the forest and a kill order in force he’d judged the assault rifle to be a better choice of weapon rather than his more customary tranquilliser gun. The memories of his encounter with the gorgonopsid not far from there were still fresh in his mind and he was taking no chances.

Dane stayed a few paces behind him, silent and watchful. Stephen knew the soldier was furious with himself for letting the prisoner escape, but he’d had a difficult call to make. The real problem had been caused by the fact that they’d been spread too thinly by the search for the correct anomaly and the need to contain the men who had strayed through it.

A low crackle of static in his radio earpiece signalled to Stephen that the amount of anomaly activity in the forest would make communications difficult, especially as mobile phone reception in the area was, at best, patchy, and at worst, hopeless. Concentrating on the task at hand, he made progress as quickly as he could, checking for prints and other signs of the man having passed by. Stephen tried to put himself in his quarry’s place and imagine how he would react in the same situation. The man was a stranger in a very strange land, surrounded by sights, sounds and even smells that would be wholly unfamiliar to him. Would he head into the deepest part of the forest and simply hole up or would he actively look for a way back to his own time, even supposing the man had any idea at all of what had happened to him?

Stephen shook his head, ignoring Dane’s murmured question when the soldier saw his gesture. Trying to second-guess the fugitive’s actions would get him nowhere. He’d just have to do his job and rely, as ever, on hard evidence. It wasn’t the time to start giving in to hunches. That was more Cutter’s style than his and it was why they worked so well together. Stephen tended to rein in Cutter’s wilder flights of fancy whilst remaining fully conscious of the fact that Cutter often supplied an intuitive grasp of events that sometimes defied more pedestrian thought processes. For now he’d just have to rely on his own judgment.

The sound of a car engine told Stephen that they weren’t far from the road. The car sounded like it was travelling slowly, the driver mindful of the difficult conditions. They were in an area of mixed woodland, with oak and ash vying for space with silver birch, interspersed with some large beeches. The rain was coming down heavily now, forcing itself between the leaves of the trees and soaking through his jacket.

A small clearing opened up in front of them and Stephen was able to easily spot the route the man had taken. Nodding in satisfaction to Dane, he picked up the pace. The ever-present static buzz in his ear was distracting, but they needed to keep comm lines open. Stephen fiddled with the control, turning the volume down, leaving it just loud enough to register if a recognisable communication came through.

A rustle in the undergrowth attracted both men’s attention. With smooth movements born of training and practise, their rifles were brought to bear on the source of the noise. Emerald fire flashed from two small eyes, reflecting the torchlight. Stephen’s heart rate leaped for a moment and then settled back down as he recognised the dark bulk of one of the wild boars that provided such a convenient excuse for so many of the strange sightings in the forest.

“Bet that’d taste good with apple sauce,” Dane commented.

Stephen grinned. “They’re good in sausages, too.”

The boar regarded them without fear. The original animals had escaped from farms breeding them for meat and had taken to life in the wild with enthusiasm. They were now breeding so rapidly in the area that there was talk of a cull being needed. The wide nostrils snuffled wetly then the boar turned and walked away from them, seemingly unconcerned by the encounter. As they moved on, Stephen wondered what the likelihood was of one of the animals ending up on the other side of an anomaly, given the frequency with which they seemed to occur in the area. That was the sort of glitch in the fossil record they could really do without.

After fewer than 50 metres, Stephen sucked in a sharp breath and muttered, “Bugger…”

Some distance away to their right, a flickering light twisted and turned in the air on the edge of a patch of dense brambles. This was exactly what they didn’t need. Dane cursed quietly. The comms were still down and they had no means of calling for back-up, even if anyone was free to respond. More in hope than expectation, Stephen pulled his mobile phone out of a pocket and checked the signal. One bar wavered tantalisingly on the screen then blinked out.

If they delayed too long their quarry would lengthen his lead, but if they didn’t check this one out they could be throwing away an opportunity to get the men at the Mitchells’ hotel back to their own time. Something the size of a small pig made Stephen’s mind up for him by hurtling out of the anomaly and running head-first into the bramble patch. A sharp squeal signalled its displeasure.

By the time Stephen and Dane reached it, the creature had managed to become thoroughly entangled and had started to shriek shrilly. Dane grinned and pulled a long combat knife out of a leg-sheath. Stephen knew the soldier well enough to be certain he meant the animal no harm and in a matter of minutes he’d hacked away enough of the undergrowth for Stephen to reach its back legs and start to haul. With each hand full of a stubby, three-toed foot, he wasn’t able to do much to help Dane, but it didn’t take long to free the little beast and soon an elongated head with a wide neck frill emerged. The pronounced beak-like nose gave it the sort of looks that only its mother could love and it was still squealing like a stuck pig, but apart from a few scratches, Stephen was certain the creature was suffering more from fright than anything else. If he had to put money on it, he would say he had an armful of young protoceratops.

“Oh shit, it’s closing!” Dane’s words sent a sharp flare of adrenaline through Stephen’s system. Without even pausing for thought, Stephen took three rapid steps towards the flickering – and very obviously fading – anomaly and pitched the squealing creature through it, hoping there was a soft landing on the other side.

A second later, the anomaly snapped closed.

* * * * *

Claudia sucked a ragged breath into her lungs and felt a sharp pain in her chest. She’d been in a car crash once before, in her teens, and recognised the sick feeling of disorientation that always followed the moment of impact. She also recognised the pain of cracked – or maybe even broken – ribs. Claudia fumbled with her left hand for the button to press to release her seatbelt, while with her other hand she pushed away the airbag and groped for the door handle.

Nausea threatened to overwhelm her as she slumped sideways out of the car on to wet leaves. Claudia could smell diesel and knew the fuel tank must have been ruptured in the crash. She had no idea how serious the risk of an explosion was in the circumstances, but she had no intention of finding out the hard way. Her legs felt like jelly as she stumbled away from the car, making a grab at a nearby tree to help her stay upright.

Her chest was heaving and each laboured breath set off another spike of pain, but she didn’t think it was hurting badly enough for her to have punctured a lung. Coughing, although excruciating, wasn’t bringing up any blood. Once Claudia was far enough away from the car to deem herself safe if it exploded, she allowed herself the luxury of a rest, leaning back against the bole of a gnarled oak tree. The teeming rain had flattened her hair to her head and soaked through her thin jacket, and Claudia was already starting to shiver, probably more through shock that cold.

Her hand trembled as she reached into her pocket for her mobile phone. To her surprise, it had withstood the crash, but lack of a signal promptly dashed any hopes she had entertained of calling for help. Claudia stared around, trying to orient herself in the wood. She needed to make her way back to the road to try to flag down a passing motorist. Her first two steps were wobbly and she had to struggle to stay upright, but the sound of a passing car helped to calm her panic and provided some much-needed direction. She knew she was just shaken, not badly injured. All she had to do was reach the road…

A hard blow between her shoulder blades knocked Claudia to the ground, expelling the air from her lungs and sending searing pain through her chest. A cry of pain was ripped from her lips and Claudia felt her senses slipping again as she fought to retain consciousness. Two rough hands closed around her throat and for a moment Claudia thought she was being strangled, but then the silk scarf she was wearing was ripped off and used to bind her hands behind her back.

The man growled something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch but Claudia didn’t need the help of the Middle English Compendium to tell her that her attacker had just ordered her to be quiet. She was hauled roughly to her feet and pushed against a tree trunk. Her attacker was dressed in a loose-fitting pair of tracksuit trousers and a thin green hospital gown. His feet were bare and covered in red mud. Claudia recognised her assailant from earlier that day and she could see the outline of a bandage on his upper arm: the legacy of Blade’s accuracy with a knife.

The next word was equally clear. Claudia was being ordered to move. The man pushed her in front of him, away from the relative safety of the road and deeper into the forest. As far as Claudia could tell, her attacker was unarmed and without stopping to consider the consequences, she sucked a deep breath into her lungs and yelled as loudly as she could, ignoring the pain in her chest. Her hope was that Stephen and Dane might be close enough to hear her voice.

The man’s fist lashed out and caught her on the cheek, sending her backwards onto the wet leaves. Tears of pain sprang out of her eyes. Claudia tensed, half-expecting to be kicked as well, but all the man did was curse violently in his own language and haul her upright, pushing her in front of him again. Claudia stumbled though the trees, trying to stay calm. She’d spent enough time around soldiers to know that her situation was by no means hopeless. She clung to the thought that an opportunity would present itself at some point. This time, the man was unarmed and rape didn’t seem to be his primary intent in this encounter.

* * * * *

“Stephen, stop!” Dane’s voice was low and urgent. “I thought I heard something.”

Stephen turned back, tilting his head to listen. The only sound he could hear was the wind in the trees.

Dane ran a hand through his wet, black curls, a look of frustration on his face. “I thought I heard something,” he repeated.

“What did it sound like?” Stephen asked.

“A woman’s scream,” Dane said hesitantly, as though he expected to be disbelieved. “But I couldn’t swear to the direction.”

Stephen let out a long, slow breath. If they were to stand any chance of catching up with their quarry they couldn’t afford another distraction. Mentally cursing their lack of effective communications yet again, he took a decision he hoped he wouldn’t live to regret. Although the fugitive they were tracking wasn’t the only likely cause for someone to be screaming in the woods at night, he had to be pretty high up on the list of suspects and the quickest way to find him would be by following the trail they were already on, rather than haring off at random in a different direction.

Stephen pointed at the barely-visible trail on the wet ground. “Tell me if you hear anything else, but for now, we carry on.”

Dane, like all of Ryan’s men, was too well-disciplined to do anything other than accept the decision, but Stephen just hoped he’d made the right call.


	8. Chapter 8

A flash of light amongst the trees made Claudia aware of the fact that they were approaching an anomaly. She twisted her head around and saw a smile creasing her captor’s weather-beaten face moments before a wracking cough sent a spray of spittle onto her clothes, reminding Claudia all too forcibly that the man was carrying a disease responsible for the deaths of countless people. She just hoped she’d live long enough to continue the course of antibiotics she’d started earlier in the day.

“Let me go, please,” she said quietly, not knowing whether he understood her, but she was too cold and in too much pain to attempt to dredge up any words that he might recognise from the recesses of her memory.

A shove almost sent her sprawling, but his hand snatched at her arm as he propelled her towards the anomaly. The man presumably thought that his home lay on the other side, but with what Claudia knew of anomaly activity in the forest that night, the chances of having stumbled on the one that would take him back to his own time seemed slight. She debated trying to twist out of his grip, but his large hand had a firm grip on her upper arm and she was already off-balance. In spite of that, she knew that she had to try something – anything – to attract the attention of anyone who might be nearby.

Her scream was cut off abruptly by a hard slap across her face, stinging her already bruised cheek and splitting her top lip against her teeth. Claudia spat blood as she was pushed towards the spinning shards of light. She experienced a momentary disorientation as the anomaly flared around her, tugging at the metal buttons on her jacket, then she exchanged the dark and damp woodland of the Forest of Dean for bright sunshine and intense heat.

Sand, rocks and dry, scrubby vegetation stretched around them as far as she could see. A sudden gust of wind whipped grit into her eyes and beside her, the man cursed loudly and abruptly released his grip on her arm. Claudia staggered and almost fell. Another flurry of sand blew into their faces, harder this time. Claudia turned and stumbled back through the anomaly into the Forest of Dean, hoping to take advantage of her captor’s confusion and get away from him.

He reacted more quickly than she had anticipated, following her and reaching out to catch hold of her bound arms and drag her away from the anomaly. Anger surged through her, replacing the sick feeling of helplessness that had threatened to overcome her, and Claudia stamped down hard with her right foot, crushing the man’s bare toes under the heel of her leather ankle boots. His howl of pain and anger told her that her tactic had been successful but she knew that unless she could press home her advantage, her victory would be short-lived.

Claudia’s bound hands were a disadvantage and her chest felt like it was on fire, but she knew her feet were her best – and probably only – weapons in an unequal fight. She lashed out again catching him under one knee and making his leg buckle beneath him as he pitched forward. Claudia hadn’t spent time watching Ryan’s men practise their combat techniques without learning some tricks from them. In a move that she knew would have earned approval from the Special Forces captain, Claudia brought her knee up into the man’s face, smashing his nose. She sidestepped as he sprawled forward, arms outstretched.

She was breathing hard now as adrenaline flooded her system. She couldn’t let him regain his feet. If that happened she would lose any advantage she’d gained. For a moment, Claudia hesitated, even as every instinct screamed at her that this was not a good time to develop scruples about kicking a man when he was down. He’d hit her twice in the face and had attempted to rape her not very many hours ago… Claudia drew her foot back and slammed it into the man’s side. He coughed and swore loudly. She didn’t need a translation to know that her parentage had just been called into question.

Claudia could taste blood in her mouth from her split lip. It was all the reminder she needed that there was no place for hesitation in this fight. He was on the ground and she had to make sure he stayed that way. As she prepared to launch another kick, a low rumbling growl came from behind her. Claudia turned around, her breath catching in her throat. She almost over-balanced as she stumbled backwards just in time to avoid a bite from the large, reptilian head that was emerging from the anomaly.

The creature blinked at her as it struggled to adjust to the darkness of the forest in contrast to the bright sunshine it had just left behind. It took a step forwards, one heavy, five-toed foot landing on the man’s lower leg, pinning him to the ground. Claudia took in the huge sail-like fin rising from its shoulders and recognised it from the books she’d looked at as a child.

The name dimetrodon flashed incongruously into her mind as she took a step backwards, avoiding another pass from its powerful jaws. A sudden scream issued from the man’s throat. The huge reptile stared down at him for a moment before returning its attention to Claudia.

“Claudia, stay still!”

The order was delivered calmly by a voice that Claudia had almost given up expecting to hear, even though she had hoped that Stephen might have been close enough to have heard her screams.

The beam of a rifle torch illuminated a pair of powerful jaws, temporarily blinding the creature. A moment later, Claudia felt a pair of strong arms encircle her waist and carry her backwards. She gasped in pain at the contact with her damaged ribs.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Dane said, letting her down gently, a few feet behind Stephen.

“Thank you,” Claudia gasped.

“You looked like you were doing pretty well without us, ma’am,” the soldier commented. “We saw you take matey down.”

As he talked, Dane was backing away steadily, taking Claudia with him, leaving Stephen to keep shining the powerful torchlight into the dimetrodon’s face. A moment later, a quick slash from the soldier’s combat knife released Claudia’s hands from the scarf bound tightly around her wrists.

The dimetrodon took a step backwards, releasing the pressure on the man’s leg and for a moment Claudia thought he would get the opportunity to scrabble to safety, but without warning, the massive jaws closed on one of his arms and started to tug. In the same instant, Stephen fired a short burst from his assault rifle. Bullets thudded into the creature’s thick hide but seemed to cause it little or no distress. The man screamed again and Claudia watched in sick horror as his arm was abruptly ripped from his body.

Dane swore violently and let go of Claudia to bring his own rifle to bear on the creature. A second burst from Stephen’s weapon took the dimetrodon in the chest and it took another step backwards, massive jaws lowered, head swinging from side to side. At the same time, a high-pitched scream issued from her former attacker’s throat as blood spilled from the ruin of his shoulder to mingle with the red mud of the forest floor.

Stephen stepped forward, M4 carbine raised to his shoulder, this time on full automatic as he squeezed the trigger, the burst of noise threatening to shred what was left of Claudia’s composure while the man on the ground continued to scream. A second round of gunfire from her left sent more bullets into the already-injured creature and finally succeeded in driving the dimetrodon back through the anomaly.

The man’s screams had trailed off into gasping sobs. Claudia fought against the urge to be sick and while Stephen and Dane kept their weapons trained on the lazily-spinning light of the anomaly in case the dimetrodon changed its mind, she sank to her knees in the mud and blood and tugged her jacket off, wadding it into a bundle and using it in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood. A moment later, Stephen was at her side and he kept the pad of material pressed against the wound while Claudia cradled the man’s head on her lap, murmuring words that she knew he wouldn’t understand.

The man’s eyes stared up at her from a mud-streaked face and as the life rapidly ebbed from his body, Claudia realised that she didn’t even know his name.

“Blessed mot ye be,” she said softly, groping for words to bring some comfort to the dying man, even though she knew he had passed beyond anything that she could say or do to help.

His eyelids flickered once more and then went still. At the same moment, the anomaly flared briefly and vanished, leaving behind nothing but the silence of the forest and the sound of Claudia’s own laboured breathing.

As Stephen knelt at her side and Dane laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, tears finally started to trickle down Claudia’s cheeks to mingle with the raindrops on her face.

A moment later, her mobile phone started to ring.

* * * * *

The Land Rover came to a halt in the middle of the forest and one of the soldiers opened the door for her. Claudia clambered out carefully, glad of the young man’s proffered arm. Although her ribs still hurt badly, she had refused all attempts to take her to the hospital and had insisted instead on accompanying Stephen to the anomaly that they believed might lead Edmund and John back to their own time.

Connor was standing next to the anomaly, heedless of the rain, taking readings on a handheld magnetometer, fortunately too engrossed in what he was doing to notice the state she was in.

Edmund and John were sheltering under a tree, standing next to Lester – who somehow still managed to look as immaculate as ever, despite the heavy rain and churned up mud underfoot. Ryan and two other soldiers had their weapons trained on the anomaly. Claudia watched as the Special Forces captain quickly glanced at his lover and received a small nod from Stephen in response to his raised eyebrows.

A moment later, Ryan’s eyes widened as he saw the state of Claudia’s face. “Ma’am…?”

Claudia attempted a smile, but winced as it widened the cut on her now-swollen lip. “I’m fine, Ryan, just a bit bruised. A boar ran across the road and I ended up hitting a tree.” She glanced around, surprising even herself by managing to summon up her best ‘don’t mess with me I’m a civil servant’ voice. “Yes, I know, it’s really not been my day, has it? Where’s Cutter?”

“He insisted on checking out the anomaly.” Ryan glanced at his watch. “He’s got another five minutes.”

“You know what his sense of timing is like,” Claudia said acerbically, happy to seize any opportunity to switch the focus of the conversation away from her injuries.

“That’s why Lyle’s with him,” Lester commented. “Do I take it our missing person won’t be joining the party?”

Claudia shook her head. “He’s dead.” She spoke slowly, pronouncing the words clearly in the hope that Edmund and John would understand her. From the look on their faces, they had followed her words. Their expressions spoke more of relief than anything else, although Lester remained as impassive as ever, even though he was undoubtedly pleased to be relieved of the need to take a decision regarding the man’s fate. “What about Thomas?”

Lester’s face softened for a moment. “Whatever I may have said earlier notwithstanding, I have no intention of forcing a teenaged boy to return to a time when a large proportion of the population of this country was dying like flies. Connor assures me that these two men are prepared to take their chances. I have authorised Owen to equip them with enough antibiotics for themselves and their families and as Dr Fielding appears to have begged, stolen or borrowed sufficient drugs by means that even I don’t care to enquire too closely into, it appears we are giving them the best chance possible. Cutter doesn’t entirely like it, but on this occasion he’ll just have to lump it.” He smiled slightly. “Actually, I think he’s starting to come around to your way of thinking, but he probably won’t admit it.”

As Lester spoke, two figures stepped out of the anomaly. Nick Cutter was wearing his grey Swedish army jacket and his hair stood up in wet spikes. At his side, Lyle was backing out of the spinning fragments of light, his rife held in readiness, as though he was half-expecting to be followed.

“We had contact,” the lieutenant told Ryan. “Three men, armed with bows and knives.”

“Trouble?” Ryan demanded.

Lyle shook his head.

“It looks like the same period,” Nick said, raising his hand to beckon the two men forward from under the tree. His gesture froze in the air as his eyes fell on Claudia.

“My car had a close encounter with a tree,” she said quickly. “I’m fine, Nick.” He took a step forward, but Claudia held up her hands to ward him off. “I think I might have cracked some ribs,” she conceded.

“Professor, I think we need to hurry up!” Connor stared down at the device in his hands. “It’s dropped a couple of thousand gauss since you went through. I’d say it’s good for no more than another ten to 15 minutes.”

Glad of the diversion, Claudia turned to Edmund and John and gestured to the anomaly. “Home…?”

The two men looked at each other then, clutching linen bags that Claudia presumed contained the antibiotics provided by Ditzy, and walked towards the anomaly, a mix of eagerness and trepidation on their faces. Claudia followed them, doing her best not to wince as each step jolted her damaged ribs.

“Claudia…” Lester put a gentle hand on her arm but she shook him off.

“No, James. I intend to make sure that this really is their home. I’m sure Captain Ryan and Lieutenant Lyle are more than capable of making sure I come to no further harm.”

Without waiting for his reply, Claudia stepped up to the anomaly and nodded to the two officers. Ryan and Lyle stepped through and Claudia followed them, knowing that Nick, with Edmund and John, were no more than a pace behind her.

The woodland on the other side looked much like the one she had just left, although it was clearly earlier in the day, as dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy of oak and beech and the leaves underfoot were dry, not wet. Three men were standing some distance away, staring at her, their bows held loosely at their side, which she took to be a good sign.

A moment later, Edmund’s cry of, “Peter!” dispelled any doubts Claudia had been entertaining of whether the anomaly led to the right time or not.

The younger of the three men dropped his bow and ran forward to embrace her companion. Up close, the resemblance was unmistakeable and Claudia was certain she was witnessing the reunion of two brothers. She turned to Cutter and they shared a smile. At her side, Ryan and Lyle lowered their weapons, but remained watchful.

John turned to Claudia and smiled. “Fare ye wele, ladye, tyl we mete ageyn.”

She smiled and held out her hand, not knowing whether the gesture would be recognised or not, but it seemed the right thing to do. “Fare ye wele, John.” She hesitated, her attempts at communicating in his language finally faltering. “Go with God.”

He clasped her hand firmly, signalling his understanding. The same goodbye was exchanged between John and Nick and then with Edmund. All three men’s faces were wreathed in smiles. By then, Ryan was clearly anxious not to linger any longer and so, with a final smile, Claudia turned and stepped back through the anomaly into the dark and rain of her own time.

In response to Connor’s excited babble, she smiled and nodded, making her way slowly and carefully back to the Land Rover. In the short time they’d been gone, Ditzy had appeared from somewhere, a pack of antiseptic wipes in his hand.

“You need to go to hospital, Miss Brown,” he said quietly. “Stephen’s told me what happened.”

Claudia nodded, too tired now to argue. She leaned back against the door of the Land Rover and closed her eyes, wondering how the soldiers could deal with the blood and death she’d experienced such a short time ago and still remain sane.

A gentle hand stroked her wet hair back from her bruised face and she heard Nick say, “It’s over, lass. And you were right and I was wrong. They’re human beings and we had to do what we could for them.”

She quirked the undamaged side of her mouth into a smile. “Even down to letting Thomas stay?”

“Aye, even down to that.”

“Professor Nick Cutter admitting he might have been wrong? Maybe we have changed history after all.”

Nick smiled and slipped his arm around her waist, being careful not to put any pressure on her ribs. Claudia let out a long, slow breath as reaction set in and she allowed herself to be held gently as the tears she’d been holding back finally started to flow.

* * * * *

Three days later, in a quiet churchyard shadowed by an ancient yew tree, Claudia stared down at a patch of freshly-turned soil covering a small grave that contained a cremation urn.

According to Thomas, the man’s name had been Pell.

She placed a small spray of wildflowers on the reddish earth and then turned away.


End file.
